Rensselaer Union and Jasper Republican, Volume 8, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 February 1876 — AN ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG. [ARTICLE]

AN ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG.

Prof. Swing, of Chicago, recently delivered the following sermon to young men, choosing for his text the twelfth chapter of Ecclesiastes: If, as is commonly supposed, this chapter was written by Solomon our boasting century must award him the honor of having penned a passage not to be surpassed for beauty and wisdom and pathos by anything in modern literature. Upon the theme, “Youth, its Duties and Privileges,*' Solomon, ought to have written well. If, as is often said, no eloquence can come from an empty heart, from Solomon's heart, full of final failure and bitterness, there should have come easily just such an eloquence of sadness and penitence as appears in this address to the young. The great King had wasted his gifted life. He had loosed the silver cords; had broken the pitcher at the fountain. The windows out of which he had once sqen a beautiful world had become darkened. We may confess that Solomon must have written the chapter, for only out of his full heart could such eloquence have poured. What a sublime multitude was in his mind when he called up before his imagination all the young men of his empire! But the multitude was sublime beyond the vision ot the writer, for hundreds of years after not only Solomon and his throne had perished, those words were to pass from Hebrew to Greek words, from Greek to Latin, from Latin to German and English, and be read and loved by millions in continents then unknown. Strange things happen in the world of mind. When the poor, blind Homer was singing his songs in old villages 3,000 years ago, his poverty-stricken heart could not have dreamed that in all the subsequent ages the greatest men of all nations would read bis verses with inexpressible delight. Solomon may have written this chapter in his chamber” only for his own instruction and relief, just as a full heart will often weep in secret, but unawares Salomon addressed the whole world. The walls of his chamber were taken away and _ all the centuries saw the weeping thinker and the aad thought. Let us leave, now, the old, unhappy • King and spend our half-hour beside that great stream of life called “ youth.” No science has yet told us when youth terminates. This must come from the fact that there is no definite boundary-to that beautiful state. It begins, indeed, at the cradle, but just where its precious period. ends and where middle life begins, no one has been able to announce. Perhaps God has mercifully hidden the dividing line, that we may not weeo as we pass over it, but may go onwardAith a light heart, not knowing that tree light of the spirit is becoming mingled With shadow. Let us, then, accept, of the indefiniteness of nature and declare youth to be a period reaching from the cradle out into the area of life, but without exact confines. As day fades into night,’ • tbits youth fades, and after a time the soul looks up ana says, “night has come." While these boundaries are indefinite, yet there are hundreds here to-day who know that they are living inthis period declared so golden not only by poets but by philosophers. —They know it not only by the mere count of years, but by the buoyancy and hope of their hearts. As yet the world lies not back of them but before them. Like children of a Christmas, they are happy not because the day has come but because its light is about to dawn, Thj; human heart is great only when it is Capa, , ble of great inspiration. .When those years are upon man In which the mortotv is wreathed with splendor like the nimbus around the foreheads of the old saints, then the mind and whole soul are passing

through their period of greatest power. When the heart is ao susceptible that all the winds of earth, even the softest whisper, waken miuio amid its strings, then, the greatest day* of tills life are passing. They may not be themostpowerful days in actual events. Events come slowly; bat they are the moat powerful days in al J those qualities that produce events. The actual harvest is always far away from the sowing time. Indeed, the harvest comas toward the fall of the year. It stands close by the autumn leaf/ But the days that made the harvest began far back in the March and April rains. Bo the noble events of life come perhaps in full or late manhood, but they are only the ripened fruit of a tree that put forth its leaves and blossoms long before, when the noble atmosphere of youth lay arohnd the spirit. The young, looking at all the illustrious ones of the world, and marking that they are standtng'ln mtddleWb. fw! That they eta hope little from the present, as it still is too far away from great action. Fatal mistake! That middle life so full of honors is only the place where the stream of youth empties all its long borne treasures. Middie life is the place where the torrent of the heart tumbles into the sea. Coleridge says “No one ever became a poet after he had passed his twenty-first year.” The meaning Of such words jnust be that such a cta of life’s early enthusiasm and early coinrings. Indeed, the most remarkable men of all history have achieved their greatness by the time the thirtieth year hail come, for up to that period the idealism, the dreatps, the vehemence of the mind, the inspiration of the soul all sweep along in all the majesty of a heavy’ wave or a rushing storm. As the Cumean sybil raved when the spirit df prophecy w r as uf>on her; as the old prophets seemed half frenzied when their lips stag those statelv strains of destiny, so the Utterances and deeds of middle life are only the final language of that sybil that raves in the bosom all through the inspired hours of life’s morning. There are many melancholy scenes on earth. The millions of poor in Ireland might well touch all souls with pity. All over the world there are strewn great calamities of mankind. A journey among men is much like passing though a forest after a tornado has just passed by, or like passing through Calabria on the morning after the earthquake had shaken it; but more painful than all these scenes is the spectacle of millions of youth daily exhausting upon low pursuits or childish pursuits an enthusiasm and an inspiration of soul implanted by the Creator for the purpose of creating and decorating a world. Every young heart of man or woman,carries within it a vitality that may make, and a genius that may beautify, a vast empire. As God implants in the young bird a power that makes it at least spread its wings and oast Itself upon the soft air, so into the young bosom which He loves more than He loves the sparrows, He has emptied an urn of enthusiasm, of hope, of sentiment, of love, of ambition, which aye tQ become the wihgs of all subsequent flight ■ Trusting yourselves, w young fWafids to these wings, the great air of the .world will softly and sweetly bear you up. But to permit this holy vitality to exhaust itself in a saloon beneath the pavement, to compel the inspiration of ayoungneart to spend its divine resources upon a drunken song or to study only the shape and colorings of a toilet, to turn away such a gifted spirit from the intoxication of learning, of art, of culture, of religion tad make it beat its bright wings only in the foul cages of vice is the most painful of all the pictures seen in the drama of man—most painful because so vast and so influential for wretchedness. , j The classic books which nearly all of you have read (thanks to that public education which has given the world’s literature to all the rising generation) told you of a lake called “ Avernus. ” “ Avernus’ ’ means birdless. Located in the desolate crater of an extinct volcano, a poisonous air issuing from the infernal depths hung over the dark water, and stupefied the sense of the eagle or the nightingale that tried to pass from shore to shore. Suddenly the wing became powerless, and the eagle with his pride and the nightingale with its song folk into the river of death. Let us bless the classics that they have handed down to us such a figure of human life. There is a lake of pleasure, of folly, of sin lying near the homes of the* young. A deadly air hangs over it. The young, forgetftil or ignorant of its fatal vapors, spread their wings upon its hither shore—those wings made in heaven, and good enough for angels. But at last their night is checked, and the heart onceproud like the eagle’s, or sweet with pong like the lark’s, alike it falls into the dark flood.

Thus all ye young be assured that the wonderful activity within and the rosy imagination of these days are a power that should be busy Constructing the future. A happy mi Idle life doesnot spring up Out of itself. The eloquence of Henry Clay did not Come to him in 1830 or 1840, when he stood ift the height of power, but Came in that ’rosy light of oratory tltat hung ovCr his cradle in 1777 and in that longing of the soul that made the corn-fields of Virginia the audience of hiA recitations ana soliloquies. Thus all greatness comes from permitting the inspiration of youth to pour itself along, some sacrea path. At twenty-five the' trickling drops have become a stream; at thirty the streamlet has become a majestic river. The heart will Peter become as powerful again as when it was young and possessed the power to enlarge the future, and, like the sun, draw up sweet water from that outspread sea. The sadness of old age lies partly in its inability to paint any longer in brilliant Colors. Unless old age finds itself full of the poetry and rapture stored up in life’s morning, it becomes only a solemnity, a face turned downward. The blessedness of young life lies in its privilege of singing: There Is a fount sboat to stream, There is a light about to beam, There la a warmth about to glow, There is a flower about to blow. Let ns now ask the question: How shall the young make the mogt of life? The most general answer and the most valuable one is; “by common sense and by will-power.” What keeps you from throwing,yourself into the lake, or into a fire, orlrom the roof of the house? This simple quality of man called common sense is the nearest and best guardian angel of each mortal. Others believe in other guardian angels. But inasmuch as God has given you all this will-power and this common sense it is almost an impertinence in us to demand additional guardian angels from the same henven. -feme declare that religion will save the young, and that alone. But this reply is too superficial, fbr what will set religion before the mind in the proper light?

What shall unfold its value ! At the foundation of all safety lies, therefore, “ common sense ” that forbids you to hurl yourself into the sea or down the precipice. Into this God-made balance place the good and ill of earth and weigh them and then hold last to that which is good. The young of the past have been deeply injured by a philosophy which informed them that they possessed no power, that they must seek some day a divine overshadowing that would in an instant change their natures and set them out upon the new career of saints. Under the influence of this blight our youth have assumed themselves to be powerless, and have drifted along in every folly and weakness, exEcting the Deity to come and remake em at some later day. The tens of millions of ruined yoiftn in the world now show that God 8008*1101 often come to a life that has neglected Itself. God sent His angel of Ullman will and human judgment before Him, and He loves to enter the heart, not that rejected His messengers, but that received them. Hence, the first law of reform or of protection is that we dare not think the thought or do the deed of a fool. Castelar says (hat Alexandre Dumas failed of greatness because “he was willing to tell a lie in his books.” Literature reposes upon truth. 80 a good life reposes upon common sense, and cannot, Mand upon a basis of folly. Why should God send other angels if we despise thaflrst? Second law of success: This intelligence must busy itself chiefly in keeping always before the mind "highideals.” Life must not be projected upon a scale of simple amusement, or of riches, or ease, but upon the plan of a high-spirited nature. This thought has already been involved in what we have said about the beautiful outlook of youth. Setting forth in his career, each human being living in our land and century perceives a light on the far-off horizon. Before us in early years this light is white and charming. To compel the will to look always toward it, and to persuade the heart always to love it, is the highest duty of early life. This ideal will be found composed of two things—an integrity toward man and God, and then some idol of this life. Follow it, and you will find religion as to God and a glorious life-pursuit as to earth. Byron held to only one-half the vision. But he made a gigantic world out of that half. His ideal never moved from its place. The Scotch reviewers could not extinguish or eclipse the star. Wherever the unhappy Lord went his harp was in his hand, and all the world of beauty, all the seas, all the mountains, all the joys and griefs of mankind came to him to be blessed with the immortality of song. Before Franklin stood the dream of wisdom and knowledge. Before all who have ever reached a valuable distinction there has stood a future full of alightthat has never once gone out. With these two lofty heights before the eye, the height of morals and of personal development, life cannot be a failure, end where it may, in middle years or in old age. But these thoughts bring us now to one of the most powerful enemies of the young. There is a foe on the field that is vanquiahing many a gifted brain. Of the, power of sin and folly J have always spokdn. Let us confess now the hunger for riches to be one of the most injurious appetites that gnaws at the modern heartstrings. It is all the more to be dreaded because it comes backed by the philosophy of the whole century. The philosophy of Plato and the Bible turned men toward spirituality, and forth came the thinkers, the poets, the philosophers and the apostles. The philosophy of Bacon came and turned men toward things. Railways and ships and carriages and houses and farms tad stores and all the million of things poured out of the new shape of reason like sparks from a conflagration. Whereas once the world was full of beauty or chivalry, it is now overflowing with things. Money represents all these things. It will buy anything from a diamond to a railway. Hence money stands for almost all the world material and dust made and perishable. In other times it might have stood for religion or knowledge or culture. But our philosophy being material, money follows the genius of the times and stands for things and not for soul. Thus before the taulions of the young shines a star unwothy to guide the spirit, a yellow star lurid as Mars, sickly as the Dog-star in August. The Astor who has just died, the great millionaires about to go from earth, have written over their own pursuits, “ All is vanity.” If only a few men in a generation w ere struggling for gold, the. world could bear the strain, but when the public philosophy is material and all the sweet infants are born into the passion for money as they are born into liberty and language, the outlook seems draped with clouds.

Such being the weakness of the age, the youth in whose bosom there remains some of the spiritual power accustomed to shed over the future something of a divine light must battle against the sin oT his day, and set up again some ideal holier than money. He must open the hearts of all the great dead that lie dreaming in the silent past aqd find bow feeble in all qf them was the love of money, but how powerful the love of the true, the beautiful and the good. He must lift the shroud from the forehead of all, all from the Sappho of old Greece and the Terence and Virgil of Home to the last great soul that has left earth; and there see that for none of them did riches weave a single wreath. Humility of poverty and of soul inserted all the flowers in their chaplets. It is the custom now of those who have lived for money alone to be urged in their last days to make large bequests to schools, colleges, libraries; and some of them less perfectly ruined by the passion than others do surrender at last the riches that cannot follow them. This dying act we call charity. And such it is. But such a final administration of the effects .of the dead only shows that our little j money, before we come to the grave, should take these spiritual paths confessed to be so noble. The will* of the rich are thus only penitential tears falling over a misspent life, telling us not how gold should be employed after one has gotten a million and stands by a grave, but how ft, should be administered when one’s cheek is still in bloom and the star of the soul shines out in its first magnitude. —.. z The young man tells me that his ideal of life is high, but he has not the means of reaching it. Well, wealth ig hot often the means. The highest ideals are best reached from the humble home. Almost the, whole column of great names stands tipon the bed-rock of humble poverty. Our statesmen, our thinkers, our writers, our judges on the bench, our orators have all been born poor. In all the history of mian the pursuit of gold has warred against the development of self. The rock of poverty seems hard and cold, but wilhifi is a jasper.

The pursuit and the possession of money clip the wings of the soul. All through literature, all through art, the plain cottage, the unpretending home, stands for the triumpn or earth. The poets, the painters, the orators, all these sensitive souls know where fluman happiness has been found in all the long experience of man. They read the book of rate tor us and tell us Its true meaning. And yet these inspired brains, when they have wished to show us the beauty of life, have never led us tip to the door of a palace, but always to soma place where the rose bloom* by a quiet fijlfet, and where the gong of the birds and the light of thd sun meet in the same interfering leaves, the waves of light and the waves of sound flowing together toward th* heart. The magnificent kings have wished often for the peace of humble life. The court of Charles X., sickened by spkpdor, repaired to the country and dressed «s shephytyr and toiled for a time, that Chav nf®Bt touch life not in its cares but in us sweetness. In the novel of Auerbach it was not Irma in the palace that was so blessed, but Irma in her mountain home that gave the writer such a picture of spiritual and physical beauty. The care of large property injures the soul by turning it away from those mental ana moral paths along which grow the Anataest-baibtost Ishabie flowers?"TliTs is no new view. It is not the telling of a secret. The world knows that the highest happiness is found in the constant pursuit of an ideal, and that the chase for riches is only an intoxication like the fascination of the goblet of wine or the cup of flattery. We all drink these cups, not because they are valuable, but because we are weak. What Is called “ moderate property” or even “ humble means” is the best condition of success. An educated book keeper has within his reach a triumph which the owner of the “ bank” or the “ business” may never reach. Emerson says: “Give me health and a June day and I will make the pompof kings ridiculous.” It is necessary only to throw down the god money from his pedestal, to trample that senseless ifiol under foot and to get up all the higher ideals, a neat home, vines of one’s own planting, a few bookaftill of the inspiration of genius, a few friends worthy of being loved and able to love in return, ahundred pleasures that bring no penitence, a devotion to the right that will never swervfe, a simple religion empty of all bigotry, full of faith and, love, and to Such a philosophy earth will give up what joy it knows. With these sublime images aropnd one, the heart will rest in the center like the sun in the midst of his attendants, with all the bright planets around, raditatin light and sweet in harmony. This, my young friends, is not my philosophy. It is a theory of life drawn from all the world’s experience. Not a generation has lived upon earth which has not, after having tried all the paths of action, bowed at last to the philosophy that it is the steady light of npble ideas that makes life pass in blessedness and in peace. Home, industry, education, friends, honor and religion arc the ministering angels that alone are worthy tq wait upon the human soul. In their arms they shall beat you up. ' ’ To the young this philosophy comes with peculiar power. There are many persons in this house to whom all this glowing theory of life is in vain. They are far along in years. It is too late for them to think of placing before their eyes a star that shall guide them and never grow dim. They must compose their hands for death, crossing them upon their breast. But to you, young men and young women, this divine philosophy, wrung from the tears, of former times, cOmes like the song of the morning lark. It greets you as you rise from your couch. This morning hymn, sung by the world, is for you. Jo us older ones come only 1 ' evening hymns, the misereres of memory and sorrow. Before you the world lies today greater in its power and beauty than ever before any young souls since it arose from the sea of chaos. Remember, then, that you must grasp this life while the inspiration of youth is pourihg like a torrent through your heart: You will not dare exhaust upon sinful or trifling pursuits a nerve-power that is, indeed, the first vibration of the strings that should make immortal music. Use not the harp of God at a dance of Bacchanals. Trample under foot the new idol called Riches, and remember that out of humble life the mlghtest souls have come, and on the threshold of a cottage the holiest sunlight has always fallen.